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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322075">Encore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTWL/pseuds/PTWL'>PTWL</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Porn with Feelings, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream, teenagers eloping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:02:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTWL/pseuds/PTWL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[...] The song, sweet and constant like the lulling crashing of the waves ashore, carries him somewhere safer, where his heart desires.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reynauld awakes to a high pitched howl. He sits in a hurry, panting and feeling his heart trying to hammer his way out of his chest. Beside him, someone shifts. It takes him a while to recognize his surroundings. He is back home [...]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crusader/his wife, minor Crusader/Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), minor Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Encore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>They are 16-17 but I get if this makes people feel awkward. This is mostly me pouring my Rey-related headcanons into ao3. I still don't have a title for this work as I write these notes.<br/>Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The screaming fades slowly, as the humming settles into his mind and heart, washing his thoughts away with a great feeling of familiarity and protectiveness. He can swear someone he knows yells his name in despair when he parries, hitting straight into the back of the man’s head, yet he is unable to recognize him. His name is less than a shadow and his features indistinguishable from any enemy amidst the battle. He presses on despite his weariness. However, at last, he fails to preserve and he begins to choke through his bascinet. Witchcraft! Some pestilent fumes make their way into his lungs, clouding his vision even more if such a thing is possible. The song, sweet and constant like the lulling crashing of the waves ashore, carries him somewhere safer, where his heart desires.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reynauld awakes to a high pitched howl. He sits in a hurry, panting and feeling his heart trying to hammer his way out of his chest. Beside him, someone shifts. It takes him a while to recognize his surroundings. He is back home, laying in bed with his Sarah, who glances his way with concern clear in her dark eyes. She...looks so young.  Pretty much like she did when they married, a lifetime ago. On the brink of true adulthood.</p>
<p>Slowly, as if not to scare a wounded wild animal, she reaches for his face to cup with both hands and runs her thumbs under his eyes, cleaning his tears away in the most tender way. As she touches him, however, he realizes that his beard is gone, and so are his wrinkles. In shock, he looks down at his hands: they are calloused, yes, but from working the land, not from fighting, and the signs of age are gone. He’s young too. Half a boy and half a man. Could have it been all that...truly just a nightmare? If so, it was the most awful dream to even fall upon any child of the Light.</p>
<p>It matters little, though, as he’s back with Sarah. And they have their whole lives ahead of them. He can remember clearly now. They eloped not even four months ago to live away from Reynauld’s father and settle in their own terms. Sarah just turned seventeen a fortnight ago and he’ll still have two more months before he does so as well. Relieved, he leans into her touch and begins laughing, as tears leave him once the tension is gone from his body and he feels safe. He reaches to cup the back of her head and pulls her closer, kissing her as if he hasn’t seen her in years. Such a terrible dream… How long has he even been asleep?</p>
<p>Sarah melts in his embrace, eyes closing and breath fading into his mouth as she relaxes into their open-mouthed kiss. Light only knows for how long they kiss, without looking and moving away, noses pressed together and no words between them. Finally, forehead against forehead, Reynauld dares to open his eyes. He can barely think clearly, Sarah does that to him. She leaves him defenseless without even trying.</p>
<p>“I don’t really know what’s come over you but I’m starting to think I rather enjoy it.” She chuckles, biting her lower lip lightly, even if reddened from brushing against his. Her words send shivers down his spine and he watches her closely with his eyes unfocused by desire. His sweat, cold from that terrible nightmare, begins to warm again. As does his blood when the blush hits him: cheeks, neck, ears...even the upper part of his chest grows a shade darker of pink in the faint candlelight.</p>
<p>“Do you ever feel shame at all?” He mutters. Puberty changed his voice long ago but only a few years back and there is still some sweetness to it he thought long lost. It’s a miracle. A work of the Light.</p>
<p>Sarah pulls away from him, making him pout childishly, but her gaze… If he wasn’t already hard, he’s almost painfully so when her dark eyes fall on him like a spell, lashes long and black as night. She pulls the covers away and reaches for the lower hem of her shift, teasing him as she lifts it inch by inch. “How could there be any shame at all in laying with my lord husband?” The way she whispers those last words… He should consult the local priest the next time he confesses if there if such a tone of voice is a sin even in their marriage bed. He can’t help but pray to the Ligh it isn’t.</p>
<p>Over nearly four months, Reynauld has slowly run out of untested ideas of how a man and a woman can lay together. However, Sarah always manages to find a way to encourage him to try and think harder. Even if their first attempt on their wedding night was rather...disastrous. First, he made a fool himself by over-reacting to some bit of blood. He hardly doubts he made it three minutes in. And then, he felt guilty he had harmed her even if Sarah kept insisting she was fine. With some sly sweet-talking, though Reynauld was swiftly back to give it a shot, if so his dearest wife desired. Trial and error. The man might be the only animal that trips twice, or more, over the same stone but he has come to enjoy very much the feeling of success when he manages to get things right.</p>
<p>Looking, it helps. So he stares openly at her when she pulls her clothes over her head, loose hair falling back in place, dark and messy. As much as he dislikes the feeling of finding out long strands between the sheets always finding their way between his toes, he appreciates the aesthetic value of it. He disrobes in a rush as well, kicking his trousers down, which makes Sarah laugh at his clumsiness.</p>
<p>Closeness, that’s great. Now that he has already proved himself an idiot once more, he tries to solve it by shily offering Sarah his hand to help her out climbing into his lap. There is an especial sort of intimacy of being able to look at her countenance whenever he pleases. Raising an eyebrow, she takes his hand and his offer and happily settles over him. With her legs around his hips, there is little space between them. He can feel her breast pressed close against his chest, her breathing on his neck, and her wetness grinding down on him. Reynauld can’t help but hope she’s right and there is no shame to feel in this because how she arches her back when he leans in to kiss her once more must be close to angel-like. Sarah buries her fingers into his hair, clinging to him for dear life. She likes to curl strands of his already wavy hair when they are falling asleep but this is much different.</p>
<p>Touch… Reynauld decided that touch is amazing. He used to be so deeply scared of it. He was terrified when he first undressed in front of her. He trembled when she ran her short fingers over the scars father had left on his back over years of punishment and anger. It didn’t hurt. Nor did he jump in pain when she hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek flat against his back and arms reaching to rest over his stomach. Though sleep terrors still chase him from time to time, they are less frequent. Sarah’s hands are a blessing but he likes to feel her as well. It was liberating: learning he can, and should, reject her if he doesn’t want her to have him, and that she would do the same in return. Though the Verses talk about the duty in the marriage bed, it feels like no obligation at all. Nor does he rather it be any other way.</p>
<p>Sarah accidentally tugs on his hair and he hisses into her lips. It bothers him little if it means she’s enjoying herself. Reynauld likes to hold into her waist, feeling her shape against his body. He could spend hours running fingers do the light S shape from her chest, down her waist, hip and, finally, her thighs. And maybe he would once they are done if sleep doesn’t claim him right away. Yes, perhaps he’ll be more tired once he awakes but won’t he also be merrier?</p>
<p>She already understands his signals and fixations so she allows him to lift her weight slightly, shifting above him to leave him more room to work. Sarah hides her face into the crook of his neck, nibbling idly at his shoulder and clavicle, not quite growing bored of the taste of salt and sweat from working the land the whole day. It is distracting and, as much as Reynauld enjoys getting distracted, he is a man on a mission now, even if Sarah finds his obstinacy laughable. He caresses her right under her navel. It still manages to make him flush and, feeling the heat radiating out of his face, Sarah chuckles and pokes his cheek to pester him a bit, as she has always done.</p>
<p>At least she does until his fingers barely touch her crotch and they lay where they found out she is most sensitive. He is still trying his best to familiarize himself with it but he is proud he is learning. His father used to say he was too slow for education and it indeed took him many years, and many beatings, to learn all the Verses by heart, but he can certainly try. Sarah likes his enthusiasm. And he likes to bring her joy. His touch is careful, running slow circles over her nub, teasing as he brushes the tip of his finger against her damp slit. Until Sarah’s patience finally wanes and she bites, not nibbles, but bites his neck, urging him on. She is demanding with him and Reynauld finds it amusing. He has never wanted a meek obedient wife but his Sarah, the little girl with her mules and cart that would walk by his father’s farm every day to trade for their excess for the town marketplace.</p>
<p>He obliges because that’s what he’s done with her since he can remember. He’s almost confident now when he spreads her wetness across her lips and he finds relief in listening to her sigh in content. It still shocks him how easily his fingers sink in her when they take their time. Sarah is warm all over but even more so inside. She shudders in his arms, mouth open ajar against his skin. Reynauld can tell she’s doing a great effort as she uses his neck for support and gently rocks herself against his hand. There is this little trick he found out mostly by accident so he puts himself to work and he offers her his thumb to grind her nub into as he curls his fingers.</p>
<p>The groan is surprisingly deep coming from her, especially considering her short height, but Reynauld knows it’s a good sign if she can’t keep flirty and laughing at him the whole time. No, Sarah looks outraged and is quick to temper when she’s near. She curses and sinks teeth and nails into him. In truth, he finds it exhilarating when she orders him around.</p>
<p>This time, she does a few of it all. “Fuck it…” She grunts, wrinkling her nose. She adjusts her legs until she’s kneeling once more and raises her hips away from his reach. Reynauld knows when he should let go, so he does. And before he can let a word out, Sarah can see his concern clear in his eyes so she glares daggers at him. “Don’t you dare ask if I’m alright.”</p>
<p>That’s all he needs to know but it only makes him smile even the fooler. “Or?” Normally, Sarah’s shove wouldn’t be enough to make him lay down but it’s not like he’s trying to oppose her. So he falls into the mattress, back bouncing a bit, caught in a fit of laughter to Sarah’s great desperation. He pushes her even further, stretching over the sheets, clearly just for show. He raises his arms until his hands are at eye level and his shoulders crack loudly. Then Reynauld very consciously glances at her with his eyes half-lidded, very much like mimicking her when she’s the one below him. It seems to work because, even bold as she is, she looks down and away from his eyes, hair graciously covering her from sight. That also feels like a victory.</p>
<p>Sometimes it’s still hard to believe, that he can do this to her. That’s truly an honor, that she trusts and desires him so. He flexes his knees so she has something else to support her. Huffing, she looks down at his shaft, frowning deep in concentration, almost comically serious. It isn’t like she hasn’t seen him stark naked many times since they married but sometimes it brings her to a pause.</p>
<p>“Are you feeling intimidated?” She has always been competitive so his words make her snap suddenly, glancing at him with an unvoiced promise of regret. Reynauld couldn’t be more eager to see it for himself. He hums peacefully when she takes him in hand, angling him so she can let him sink in at her preferred pace. She does not stop until he’s fully seated inside her. His eyes unfocus and he licks his lips, leaving them open ajar as he watches.</p>
<p>Reynauld tries to reach for her hips to help her once she’s ready but Sarah is faster pinning his wrists to the mattress. And he could break free easily if he so desired but he does not. He stares at her, pressed against him with a tired smile on her face, and eyes blown even darker. There is little room between them but he grinds his hips against her, draining his lungs in a slow breathy sigh.</p>
<p>Sarah pins both of his wrists together and, right then, he doesn’t even care that only one of her hand is certainly unable to hold them both, her fingers not closing around them. Nor does he care about her rather ungracious groan as she lifts herself and begins to rut into him, her free hand reaching for her mound. He can certainly tell now that tonight won’t last long for either of them. She is going to be the end to him one of these days.</p>
<p>With his gaze unfocused, he glances down her neck and into her chest. Her breasts hover less than an inch above his chest, bouncing as she moves, nipples brushing against his skin. If Sarah is aware that he’s staring, she seems to find it frivolous right now. He peeks further down, beguiled by her movements and the urgency in her. He is unable to tear his eyes away from where their bodies meet, still dazed by the sight of his member disappearing deep inside her.</p>
<p>At least he is until he hears her breathing breaking into a soft sob. Reynauld arches his back to reach her and kiss her eyelids. Her eyes look moist and tired when he parts, but she’s strong and hasn’t shed a tear yet. Their kiss is sloppy and wet. Sarah barely breaks it to mumble with her voice sore: “Help.” And the pressure of her hold against his wrists fades away altogether.</p>
<p>Her legs are trembling lightly from the effort so, with all the confidence of a man who isn’t fully in his senses, Reynauld clutches her by her hips, lifting her with ease. Sarah has always liked whenever he lifts her. Since they were children, he would pick her up and she’d kick into the air, begging him not to tickle her when she was helpless. Now though, she groans and allows her legs to go slack, trusting without any sign of doubt that Reynauld is more than capable to handle this by himself.</p>
<p>He’ll ask a hundred times if he had hurt her once they are done but, for now, Reynauld takes deep breath after deep breath. He guides her up and down with a great deal of brute force and little craft. There will be fingerprints all over Sarah’s soft skin in the morning, his thumbs digging into her hipbone and very short nails grazing as he tries to hold into something. He needs to close his eyes as soon as he realizes her hand hasn’t gone anywhere else and she gasps, close to running out of air. Soon, he’ll be back into his usual self and run to comfort her but now… Now the best he can do for both of them is to buck inside her in time with his arms. He can feel the tension in his muscles mounting from the effort but he refuses to feel the exhaustion just yet.</p>
<p>By the end, he doesn’t raise her as much before letting her fall down and their rutting becomes shallower and faster. Sarah has been struggling for a while and Reynauld tries to endure longer as she clenches down on him. She groans half like she just woke up and is unquestionably unhappy about it and half like she is hurting, out of breath as if she has run for a long time. Then she relaxes as she drips down on him, warm and damp, and she goes close to limp. Any strength she might have had to reject him gone.</p>
<p>As soaking as she is and loose from finding her relief, he can slip into her even easier now, in a rush. She whines sluggishly at his every thrust but he is louder. He clenches his jaw, frowning, and breathing unevenly. He grunts through his teeth, snarling as he draws even more strength from this high. He can feel his own heart throbbing in the back of this throat, drumming against his ears and threatening to make them bleed. Sarah pulls at his hair, trying to hold into anything at all as he rides this through. The pain is sharp but it only drives him closer, hissing in a breath. He is barely coherent so it’s pretty clear it is only thanks to muscle memory that he raises her all the way up to pull off when he peaks. Reynauld grunts as he spills, mind blank for a few short seconds as the feeling runs his spine and he drowns in it.</p>
<p>Feeling his arms giving out, he’s careful to lower her once more into his lap. Sarah reaches for his nape, finally laying down again alongside him. Only then does he dare to crack one eye open and glance at her. What a sight they must be. Both of them trying to still their breaths, noses pressed together, and their stomachs filthy with their waste. Their legs and one of the sheets twine together. Light only knows for how long they remain like that but he isn’t panting anymore when she stirs beside him. He doesn’t need to look though because he feels her clinging to him, head resting on his chest, with an arm and a leg thrown over him, as a covetous dragon would over its hoard in a fairytale. Reynauld leans in to smell the top of her head. She always puts something on her hair that makes it smell like home. Probably because it is. Maybe sometimes it can be annoying: they bicker and he finds that some strands have somehow made it inside his socks, but that’s only a small part of it.</p>
<p>Rather lazily, Sarah begins to run the tip of her fingers in circles over his chest. Her nails barely scrape his nipple, making him quiver lightly, trying in vain to shake the feeling off. He grumbles but it isn’t like he plans to do anything else about it. So she keeps doing as she pleases, hiding her smile in his chest. Reynauld’s hand settles in the small of her back. “You get grouchy in the morning if you aren’t clean.” It is clear in his voice that the mere idea of moving displeases him greatly though.</p>
<p>She wrinkles her nose and adjusts her head into his shoulder so she can look up at his face. “Ten more minutes?” She tries to bargain leaning into him for a short kiss but he only hums, not wholly committed. “Come on, Rey. I know you love this.” Finally, it’s the almost purring into his lips that makes the trick.</p>
<p>Words. As much as they know how to read each other, even if they don’t come easy, words settle things clear between them. “You know I love you.” That’s his answer and, though he can feel the blush creeping in his ears and down his neck, and even if Sarah is very much just as abashed, he feels every inch like a man grown now.</p>
<p>Something pierces Sarah’s expression, something awful. She goes quickly from red to white in sheer fear and pain. He can feel her try to reach for him, and he does so in return. He watches in horror as her face shifts right in front of his eyes yet her frantic glance of agony remains the same. Her dark hair turns white and brittle as he tries to comfort her and her skin goes pale as a ghost's as she suffocates until he can see a ghastly purple hue, almost like a corpse. Her face has changed now too and it isn’t Sarah anymore but another woman, still trying to cling to him even in this awful death.</p>
<p>Her visage isn’t done changing and Reynauld pushes her away as her fangs begin to show and her jaw deforms horribly. Her eyes sink in deep black crevises and a bright protuberance emerges from her forehead. Her whole body has changed, contorted into an awful creature that doesn’t belong to the Light. Even in this hideous shape, her anguish is obvious. She’s bleeding copiously into murky water from a furious gash on her swollen neck. Reynauld tries to move away but, in her death rattle, she reaches for his face to cup with her clawed hands, trying to find the scantiest ounce of human compassion. They tear at his skin, gouging stripes down his cheeks. His blood is black and it boils but he can’t shut his eyes, he can’t look away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reynauld awakes to a high pitched howl. He sits in a hurry, panting and feeling his heart trying to hammer his way out of his chest. Beside him, someone shifts. It takes him a while to recognize his surroundings. These are the cold grey halls of the Sanitarium, where the air is heavy with dust and cries from the poor souls being treated in the upper rooms of the spire. He is sore and exhausted, and his head spins as he tries to focus his gaze on anything at all.</p>
<p>He doesn’t even notice he’s crying until he feels thumbs running over the bags under his eyes to clean his face. Reynauld has been long gone from Sarah’s life but dark hair and darker eyes carry on hunting him down wherever he goes. This intimacy, this touch he doesn’t deserve… “Good to see you back amongst us, Rey.” Dismas isn’t young, just as he isn’t anymore. It is oh-so-painfully obvious he has fallen asleep on his stool by Reynauld’s bed for Light only knows how long. This place… This dreadful place has changed them, yes, but they have also found some meaning here, in this ordeal.</p>
<p>He doesn’t break into a fit of laughter this once but his shoulders fall as he sighs, defeated. This is his penance for his treason. This Hell on Earth. This hopeless crusade against something greater than any of them. This evergrowing desire for everything he once had, which makes his betrayal all the worse. Light be merciful. And damned be dark eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I <i>promise</i> I will write smut that doesn't make people feel bad when they are done someday. Will it be soon? I am not so sure about that though.<br/>Hope you liked this fest of crusader hcs. I adore Dismas but I resonate in a special sort of way with Reynauld because both of us deserve a shitty t-shirt that has "I survived religious trauma and all I got was this lousy sexual repression" written on it.<br/>I can only hope this wasn't too awful to read.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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